Which Am I?

It's weird, this feeling that I have morphed. I don't know if it was conscious or not, but I feel it.

I was someone who wanted to be a mom and knew I'd be good at it.
Then I was someone who couldn't find someone to help me make that happen.
Then I was someone it didn't matter for anymore because I can't have kids anyway.
And now I feel like someone who would be a crappy mom anyway so I feel it's for the best afterall.

I don't know where that comes from. I suspect it's life circumstance.

I look around me at those in my life who have small children and frankly, it doesn't seem like they're having all that much fun.

I think about other women, out in the world or even right near me, who don't have kids and I think to myself, they must not have wanted them.

But that's what we tell ourselves because we don't like the alternative; that she really really wanted them, but it just didn't happen for whatever reason and now she's so bitter about it she even convinced herself that babies and kids are exhausting and sticky and loud anyway and who wants that?

If someone I loved romantically said to me "Hey, you'll be a great Mom! I want to be a parent with you. Let's do it!" I have absolutely no clue how I would respond to that. Would I come around to the idea and start researching adoption agencies? Or would I balk at it, reminding him that I have zero patience and I appreciate a less complicated life. That I'm too old and tired anyway and frankly wouldn't want the inconvenience. And since it wouldn't be a kid that was ours biologically, who knows who we'd get?

But at the same time, maybe it wouldn't be so bad having my world flipped on it's head.

Mischief and Gallbladders

It's been a long long time, it seems. Lots has happened but in this entry I will talk about Harlow and the ridiculous beast she's become since she became a puppy of Leisure since being put under the care of her doting grandparents.

When I was to have my gallbladder removed, I knew that having my rambunctious girl nearby would be a problem. What? You have four stitches in various location on your belly? Let me jump on you and then reposition myself numerous times by placing all my weight on your stomach via either my paddle paws or my bony elbows. That will help, right?

Yes, puppy needed to be put aside for a bit. So, a day before I went under the laproscope (I made that word up), Dad whisked her away to sunny Cape Cod, and I didn't see her again until eight days later when I joined everyone else down at Scott's End.

Prior to that, while I was laying in agony and discomfort, Harlow was learning to swim, going on multiple walks a day (sometimes attended, sometimes not, because, well, a puppy's gotta wander if she feels like it, people!), getting lots of treats and tummy rubs and oodles of people telling her how beautiful she is, free range on were to roll and where to poop and how long she should be out exploring for, receiving extra special things in her food bowl (because kibbles not good enough for cape dogs!) and on and on.

When I showed up, she was feral.

I exaggerate, she was a good girl in the cape and feral when we went back to the real world.

Happy little grubby girl!

Happy happy!

and then there was a the shark-fish she proudly brought to me

Here she is helping out Uncle Billy by kindly removing the branches he placed in a wheelbarrow

Uncle Billy was pruning and Harlow was helpful. from C.M. Scott on Vimeo.


Nervous about the deep water, she was brave while learning to fetch in the water...

Nervous about the high tide, churning as she comes back from C.M. Scott on Vimeo.


Once we returned home, there was about a week where her snout was just out of joint. I would come home to find a shoe or two chewed one day (she hasn't done that in probably nine months), and the next day she's get into the living room trash bin. The next day her offenses were more signs of boredom and empty threats, like removing the cushion from the char but not damaging it, or, my personal favorite, carefully removing the lid to the wooden salt bowl and placing it in another room, spilling no salt, and getting no teeth marks on the lid. It was a sort of I could make a serious mess if I wanted to!

Nervous

On Friday I'm going to the hospital to have my gallbladder removed. I know, who needs that organ, right? My ovaries are useless, my pancreas shot, gallbladder gone soon.

Initially this was supposed to happen in late September. I had some tests done last week though, and when the surgeon called to tell me they blood work looked great (no other organs in distress), he asked how I was feeling. At the time I'd been really uncomfortable for about three days; queasy, and sore on my right side. I told him so. "Let's not wait" he said "Let's take it out" he added, saying that he didn't want me to be uncomfortable for another six weeks waiting to have it done. I had to agree, especially with a trip to Quebec with girlfriends coming up, I really didn't want to travel feeling like I did. Plus there's that fear I have that the organ will inexplicably explode inside me and that would just be far more inconvenient (also unlikely) than having the thing taken out sooner rather than later.

So while I am sad to have to move some client appointments, annoyed my vacation week will now be a recovery week, and have to bow out of some social stuff I was really looking forward to, I really want to get this behind me.

I know it could be worse, but I'm nervous. What if they nick something in there? What if recovery takes longer than expected? This could be a problem since I have a wedding to shoot in three weeks. Yikes!  I also have multiple expectant moms on the books, waiting for their babes to arrive so they can book a session. What if I get an infection? Most importantly, what if I have to totally change what I eat? A coworker of mine who had her gallbladder removed told me as soon as she heard about me "Oh, I cant eat ANY ice cream at all anymore"

Thanks a lot, bitch.

And then there's dealing with this one (who Dad has kindly offered to take off my hands for a bit while I'm recovering)...

Late night couch catch from C.M. Scott on Vimeo.

Our Vet

I love Harlow's vet. A few weeks back we made a visit there to investigate Harlow's grass eating. I don't watch Harlow very carefully, I admit. She had her dog door through which to escape into the yard and frolic with her imaginary friends. But I've noticed when I am outside with her that I've frequently caught her eating grass then puking it back up.

Since her behavior hasn't changed and she still eats her own kibble (more quickly when soft food is added for enticement), I basically thought little of it. But maybe a few months went by and she was still doing it so I figured, couldn't hurt to ask.

The first time we went to see Dr. Chase in Winchester, the vet sat right down on the floor, and puppy Harlow went right over to her, immediately leaning into her like she was her bestest friend ever. This time Harlow was a bit nervous, but Dr Chase got low again and Harlow relaxed eventually. She asked a ton of questions and did a physical exam and suggested we do a baseline test (all the results were good). She also checked Harlow's anal glands, which was a new thing for Harlow and she understandable didn't care for it too much. After expelling her, Dr. C left to room and clean up a bit, when she returned, Harlow recoiled next to me, jamming her back into the wall.

At which point, the vet sweetly approached Harlow and gently assured her with some nice petting "It's OK Harlow, no more bum. No more bum".

Coming across this collection of photos of dogs heading to the vet made me think of this story
http://www.buzzfeed.com/elainawahl/27-dogs-on-their-way-to-the-vet#.dvz3XOe8r

The Old Soul is a Genius!

Last night Harlow was outside exploring for quite a while. When she came back in, her muzzle was covered in mud, and her paws too. There was a strange stench coming from her, like skunk and a burned motor. I took her back outside after some changing of clothes on my part and hosed her down to get all the mud off. The smell didn't seem to be coming from her body.

I couldn't smell it outside or in the house, but it was emanating from somewhere. Then I realized the stench was coming from inside her mouth!

I have no idea what went down outside, why she was so muddy, or what exactly went into that giant kibble hole of hers, but if I didn't know better I'd say a skunk left it's stink sack in my yard and Harlow consumed it. Good thing we're working on teeth brushing because I was able to do a bit of that before giving her a breath freshening bone.

It didn't do much to take the edge off and unfortunately, I had to evict her form my bedroom last night. She didn't like that much, pathetically scratching at the door while whimpering a bit. Come morning she was happy and stinky just as she'd been the night before.

I'm a lucky girl.

Untitled from C.M. Scott on Vimeo.

This is from the other night when Ben was visiting and Harlow was all over both of us.
His cutline read "It's really heart-warming how much my friend Cydney Scott loves spending time with her sweet puppy, Harlow. "

Revere Beach Sand Scultping

I had a very nice second date last weekend and I'm not going to jinx it by going on and on, but I will say we thoroughly enjoyed checking out the sand sculptures! After the sculptures and copious amounts of people watching, we walked a good distance to Antonia's One The Beach. He'd made a reservation as we walked there and as we got closer, I'll just say it, it looked like a hole. I didn't care, I'm just painting a picture. The food was amazing! Nice little surprise!

This one was my favorite and also the only one I photographed. Freedom Embraces Justice. 

She's An Old Soul

I was on my way out when I crossed paths with Harlow's dog walker Bonnie the other day. As she headed up the stairs she said to me "Harlow has a lot more confidence these days! She's doing really well and listening really well."

"I have to tell you about this…" she added.  Last week, while leaving the parking lot, Bonnie's car was hit by another car that was going about 65 mph. Her leg was broken in the accident and while ambulances did come to take her away she refused to except help. I look down her leg and it was all bruised up! "Oh I'm fine! I can heal myself!" she reassured me. Her daughter Amanda had picked her up at the scene and taken her to the hospital, but she refused to have a cast put on and was now walking and working on it after only a few days of rest.

Knowing how Harlow can be on a leash, I got a little nervous about where the story was headed. When she came to get Harlow for a walk last week, Harlow approached her bruised leg, gave it to sniff, and was very gentle from then on out. Bonnie told Harlow that they'd only be walking on level ground today, and Harlow moved at a very slow and gentle pace for the entirety of the walk. "I'm telling you" said Bonnie "I've always thought she's an old soul!"

At one point Bonnie started to hobble a little bit. Harlow stopped and ever so slightly leaned against Bonnie, as if to give her something to hold on to if she needed it. "Maybe I was imagining it but I don't think so!" said Bonnie.

My dog the shaman.

New furcut

Strayed

I'm feeling blue today. It started last night when I ate a pint of Ben and Jerrys. I don't feel guilty, but I could stand to lose a few pounds and consuming that much goodness isn't helping in that area, even with the over five miles of walking I did yesterday during work.

Maybe my blueness started over the weekend. Well, OK, maybe it started before that because I failed to remember to take my meds for a few too many days in a row. Nothing sabotaginal about it, I just forgot. I'm back on track now.

Saturday though. I read somewhere that a good way to work towards reducing body fat is to do an exercise once a week that alternates; 60 seconds of high intensity followed by 60 seconds of rest. Do this for about 16 minutes and add two more minutes every week.

On Saturday I got Harlow all leashed up and headed to the Fells for a hike-run to implement this new exercise. I had mapped my path using an app in my phone and was holding my phone and the dog leash while trying to navigate the paths (the GPS in the app isn't very accurate on a good day let alone when you're hidden in trees) when I tried to take a little hop over a small log and caught my foot sending my full weight square onto my knees on rocks.

I got up, assessed the damage and decided I could finish the work out just fine. And I did. So did Harlow. As we rested in the shade at the end of our forty minute hike which started with the 60/60 workout, Harlow was lapping up some water when I looked down at my phone, not four months old, and realized I'd shattered the screen. And then I remembered that I had meant to buy an industrial strength Otter box to protect the new phone, and that the bumper currently on it was just a place holder. But I forgot.

I got home with a mission to figure out how to replace the screen without going bankrupt. Long story short, the best deal I could get will run me a bit over $100. So Wednesday I'll take it to Apple to have that fixed. I bought an Otter Box online Saturday afternoon as I looked down at my sad phone.

Something about damaging my phone really got to me. I wanted to cry. Like, really wanted to. I take great pride is taking good care of my possessions, and somehow damaging this particular one really bothers me. A lot.

These feelings are also an indication to me of how valuable my phone is to me (read; how dependent I've become on it). I use it to take and post photos, contact friends and family, reach out to clients and learn about stuff in the world.

We headed home and I iced my knee for an hour and a half, then I mowed the lawn, then I wanted to vomit from the heat. I went into my evening plans frankly feeling like complete shit, convinced that there's something wrong with my gall bladder because when I feel sick, the area where the gall bladder apparently is, aches. I suppose I could ask someone about it. Like, a professional or something.

The evening picked up my mood with good company and a few mini-theater shows in the city. Laughing fixes a lot. So does winning a raffle with an envelope full of really nice things like skin treatments and coffee shops and bakeries. That was nice. And I deserved it.

Home ownership has me stressed. Looking at the condition of my house, I'm pretty sure a residing is needed. What I need is someone all-knowing to come to my house, look at it, and tell me, magically, what is needed most. Is the porch rotting? Will my shingles make it a few more years? And so on. Since buying my new (used) car and paying for it with much of my Cydney Scott Photography savings, I don't really have the money to do the siding anymore. So I'm left wondering if I can't do it this year will I be able to afford it next year or, as it is with home ownership, will something else come up that will zap me like a failed heating system or something and I'll end up having to sell my house cause the walls are rotting and I didn't stay ahead of it?

Then there are the trees. I have a huge Maple Tree in my yard which is big and strong and beautiful in the fall for seven and a half days before it dumps 42 tons of leaves on my property. I'm constantly pulling up little saplings in my yard, and the big maple makes so much shade that nothing will grow beneath it. I'm not a supporter of cutting down trees just because they're a nuisance, but I also have visions or the roots growing into my basement.

My gardens have saplings of all kinds growing all over and that's another project I have to take on soon - pulling them up.

I'm fighting the urge to buy things in an effort to fill the little hole of loneliness I have in me. That space where the thought grows that I am never going to find my person and I need to simply accept that and embrace it.

I have been listening to Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed. She's an author and advice columnist for Dear Sugar, and Tiny Beautiful Things is a collection of letters and answers which she has given over the years. I once visited the Dear Sugar site and I didn't have the patience for her very long and wordy responses (what a coincedence, she thinks as she rambles on), but having her read them to me is far more palatable.
Interesting though to find it to be rather intense, almost leaving me with a need to take a break from time to time. People writing in about their heartbreak and trauma, etc. One man writing in about how he is so physically deformed that he cannot see himself ever finding love and her telling him a story about a friend who was severely burned and eventually killed himself. These stories alway give me pause and make me reflect on the absurdity of my own self-criticism.

Another woman writes in about how she can't find the right man and should she just have a kid on her own? Of course that one hit close to home with the added bonus of pregnancy not even being an option for me. Fostering could be an option, but is it a good idea? Not really. Sugar gives the girl the same things to consider that I have considered myself about having a kid alone; can you afford it? How would you handle childcare? how would you be about no longer having a social life? And so on.

I've been messaging with a few guys on OKCupid (online dating) and one recently said he was off to Philly with his son for ten days. In my FB newsfeed there came a story about a pizza joint in Philly where you can buy a slice, then pay for another one that could go to a homeless person at another time. Very cool. I shot him a message basically saying "I know you don't really know me so maybe this is weird, but I saw this and thought I'd mention it to you since you said you were Philly-bound" I added a link to the story about the place.

His response was not "Hey cool! Thanks for sharing but..."  It was this...

i'm kind of outside of town - i didn't actually grow up in the city. i'd like to give you a suggestion since i saw it when you made the change to your profile in the activity window. i think it is a mistake to be upset if a guy asks you out with only 12 hours to go - that you feel down. first of all - please take this off of your profile. it feels desperate. just speaking as a friend. it will keep guys away from you. second, i am a spontaneous person and i would l often suggest things at the last minute - i would fly to other countries and spend months there based on how i woke up in the morning. third, i sort of dated a woman briefly and she'd get really upset if i called her from work and suggested that we get together that evening. it had nothing to do with her - it was just the rhythm of my life. you are forgetting that people might be dealing with crazy stuff at work and there not even sure if they are going to be in town or even free on a weekend. lastly, in the beginning - it is better to start more as friends and let it build naturally from there. that's my view on it at least.

In general, he is very correct. Finishing the statement "I spend a lot of time thinking about..." I stated that, basically, being asked out at the last minute leaves a person feeling like an after-thought. It's a new statement I added to my profile just the other day and definitely needed removing. Rather than give him a diatribe, I simply said thanked him for the advice and told wished him a nice trip, even is he couldn't make it to the cool pizza place (which he never even thanked me for sharing with him).

I am picky. I am demanding. I am entitled. These are facts. But also true is the fact that if a woman showed to a date not "date ready", there would be no second date. If I showed to a date right from work because I was asked out while at work the same day, I'd never hear from that guy again. Why? not because I'm a slob at work, but because it's hot out these days; I wear my hair in a bun, not nice and sleek and flowy like it's expected to be, even if I'm just going for ice cream. I'm wearing presentable pants and a nice t-shirt, but not date-appropriate clothes.

Dates for me FUCKING SUCK and I hate them. I have to go all the way home, shower, wash and dry my hair, do my make-up, pick out the right outfit which flatters my figure the best and works for whichever location we may be going to. Guys? Unless they're in work-out clothes, no ones really going to judge THEM for showing up wearing whatever shirt was on their back all day long. And even if they do need to change, the prep-work expected of them is FAR less than any beauty torture bullshit we have to go through.

"It was just the rhythm of my life" he wrote. Exactly. YOUR life, but not the life of the woman you were dating at the time. No regard for what the rhythm of her life was like (I say this knowing full well I know nothing of that relationship so I am writing on face value), or the pressure she felt about having to look right for the date, or the feeling she might of had that she was the plan B that evening. Hm, nothing great's come up for my evening so maybe that woman I'm casually dating with come hang out. I'll ask her to Jump and she'll ask 'How high?'! because all women want to be loved and will put up with men not valuing their time because  a good guy is hard to find and if I don't put up with this disrespectful person's treatment towards me, I'll be alone forever.

Awesome.

I'm grouchy and going for a walk now.

I'm back and while on my walk I listened to more of Strayed's book. When I pressed play while leaving my building and walking out into the sunlight, she was picking up where she left off in a response to a letter writer. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself" her voice said into my ears. Ah, yes. Well said.

Later she said "You don't have a right to the cards you feel you should have been dealt. You do have the right to play the hell out of the ones you were".  I feel I was dealt a very good hand, but I just liked the quote.

Pick-me-ups...

she says she wants a Pope-mobile for Christmas now

Shake it off from C.M. Scott on Vimeo.